


Wings

by grumpygrahams



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Scenting, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2908049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpygrahams/pseuds/grumpygrahams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict has an unusual mutation that you can't seem to keep your hands off of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings

It was beginning to become late in the morning and Benedict wasn’t yet down from the night previous. There was a wrap party and he had a little bit more than usual to drink and that had sent your mind in a fury. As a PA to one of the most wanted British actors in the country, you had a job to do, and that included getting your employer to all of his meetings on time. One of the things he was failing miserably at that moment.

It was how you found yourself lightly tapping on the solid wooden door of his bedroom with your curled knuckles, waiting impatiently for an answer. When none came you opened the door a crack and peeked in. A tuft of dark hair stuck out from beneath the blankets on the bed, light snoring filling the room. Yeah. He was dead.

Light bled through the curtains, casting a golden hue in the room that made it seem ethereal. You took your time as you made your way to his large bed, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder and in an instant he was awake, shoving himself away as a cascade of feathers spilled forth from the blankets, spreading wide and nearly knocking you over. Both Ben and yourself stared wide eyed at each other, both breathing hard, and both very confused. Your eyes strayed to the massive wings that sprouted from between his shoulder blades, feathers poofing in the excitement.

“Ben, you better have an explanation…”

The wings settled a little, folding behind Ben in a proper manner before the man spoke.

“A mutation.”

You stared at him, unblinking, lips curling down in a slight frown.

“One you have hidden for thirty-six years.” It wasn’t a question as your tone fell flat from your tongue, eyes still not able to look from the pearly feathers. Ben did move, dipping his head to catch your gaze.

“Stop staring.”

Your eyes flick down, brow furrowing.

“I don’t understand. I mean, you have done so many scenes without a shirt, and the make-up department has never…they are so big.”

That draws a deep laugh from him and he shifts on the bed, sitting cross legged with the wings arching behind him gracefully, showing off almost. Your eyes fall onto them again.

“And thus your powers of observation never cease to amaze me.” The wings flicker slightly before they disappear. A sudden feeling of sadness tightens in your chest at the lost image. “I can make them visible to those whom I wish.” They reappear once again, flexing outwards. “More or less. It is a trick of the mind.”

You shift from one foot to the other, your palms itching to reach out and touch them. To feel if they were soft or scratchy. To see the color for yourself. Ben lets a wing beat out, the tip of a primary feather touching the ground. When he spoke his voice was once again low, deep, a rumble in his chest a that warmed your mind.

“Go ahead. But be careful of the coverts. They are sensitive.”

A slight nod was given as you reached out, running your fingers along the edge of a large primary, stroking down as to not mess up the barb. You felt Ben shudder, the wing stretching out even more. Your hand rested on the wing bone, stroking upwards, fingertips brushing into the soft duvet of feathers that led inward.

Ben took a sharp intake of breath, the wings feathers puffing up again, making them seem bigger. More open. Curiosity overtook as you took seat on the edge of the bed, inspecting them closer. They were a rich white color, pure as snow with a slight pink sheen to them, near the base. Your fingers spread the feathers apart, watching as the color shifted.

“They are beautiful.”

This time he laughed but it was a bit ragged, almost forced. The wing moved upwards, touching the ceiling but it let you see the long feathers beneath that were used for catching wind, for flying. Could he fly? The thought was exciting. You ducked beneath and let your hand pet the back, the muscle hard and powerful beneath the touch. The touches were light enough, you though, respectful until you felt behind Ben to the base of wing where it met his back where a wetness coated your fingers.

It was an odd slickness, one not like water but thicker. With a gentle swoop you coated two digits with the substance and brought it back to your nose, sniffing curiously. It was heady, musky.

Ben’s gaze was predatory as you licked your lips, parted to taste what it was and found it was an oil.

“It is a set of glans at the base of my wings that secrete and oil used for cleaning the feathers and mating.” His hand took yours, elegant finger circling your wrist as the other hand rubbed the oils downwards, small circles into your palm, dragging it down your forearm. It made you dizzy, a fuzzy edging around your mind. Closing your eyes in attempt to rid yourself of the warm nausea you let the questions that floated in your mind spill forth.

“Do they need to be cleaned?”

Gentle lips press against your oil slicked wrist, his nose breathing in his scent on your skin.

“No.”

His lips pressed upwards, small kisses that ended as he took his tongue into the crook of your elbow, teeth biting ever so slightly. You swallowed thickly, watching as Ben uncovered himself from the sheet, his cock heavy between his legs, stiff and swollen and it made your own arousal respond in kind, a warm heat that tugged downwards.

His hands were gentle as the took the hem of your shirt and pulled it above your head, chucking it to the floor and quickly went to shed your brazier your breasts exposed to his needy mouth. His hand laid palm flat to your sternum and pushed you down, covering you with his lean frame, wings coming down to cocoon you both, a curtain of feathers that ticked your cheek and sides. His lips took a nipple between them, sucking softly as his fingers dragged along your sides, nails digging in slightly.

He only paused to work the button on your jeans, snapping them open and pulling them down hastily a new need set deep in his bones.

“Do you know how the oil works?” He spoke as his thumbs curled around the edge of your underwear, sliding them off your hips. “You wouldn’t, would you?” They caught where your pants did, around your ankles, and it took a little work for you to toe your shoes off so he could slide the clothing off. “Let me tell you.”

You were naked beneath him then, his insistent erection pressed into your stomach as he took both of your hands and raised them above your head, grinding into you, spreading your legs with his knees. Your hips arched up, wanting to feel him. Let him bury his heat into you.

“Its a lubricant.” Not only did he explain but he began to show. He was flexible to take his hand and place it behind his shoulder, fingers rubbing into the glans, letting he oil flow. “I’m so wet,” His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes never once leaving yours, demanding your attention. “So slick. I feel it running down my back. Coating my feathers.” His hand comes back glistening with his oils. A palm slides across your stomach, leaving a gleaming trail that lead downwards, chasing his hand, and he slipped two fingers down your sex, on either side, until they met just against your opening.

You began to feel hotter than usual, a slightly tingling of the flesh where he had touched before it turned into a more solid thrumming, your nerve endings sparking and heating. Your body arched up, seeking out for something, anything, and was greeted with a recoated hand, letting the oils coat between your legs.

“You smell like me now.” And it felt so primal.

You couldn’t hold still, your hips moving in an ever gyrating motion, Ben’s fingers poised just against where you wanted him most. The burning was intensifying and you felt you could release just from that. But Ben took a hold of your hip and slid his fingers deep within you, scissoring your wide, twisting and coating your insides with him.

His smile was easy as you looked at him, his eyes hooded. He brought his fingertips up to his mouth, tongue lapping at the combination of both you and him.

“Mine.”

The warning was only a short one as he slide into you, filling you with a full stretch, the oil and your own arousal aiding the dry push. He was both large and long and it had your arching into him, your hands grasping for his shoulders. His arms looped around your back, pulling you close. Your legs wrapped around his hips, angling them so he could bury himself deeper in. Each stroke set you alight, bringing you closer to your release.

His nails dug in as he strokes became long and deep, back bowing deep as he took you, a claim of your body, your mind. You clenched around him, body shuddering against his own. The strokes began to become erratic, short, faster. Your legs clenched him tighter against you, pulling him deeper.

The wings arched high over him, stretching out fully, nearly filling the whole room. Your fingers gripped them, the bone a soft curve under your fingers as he shuddered to a still, spilling himself inside of you with one last final thrust. The wings softened their extend, falling around the both of you again as he languidly stroked inside you. You hadn’t come, not yet, but the way his fingers edge downwards again, pressing against your clitoris, rubbing small circles, it didn’t take long for you to find the release of your own, shuddering against him, arching, your fingers taking a tight hold on his wings.

A smile had bloomed across his lips as he leaned down, pressing his open lips against yours in a soft kiss, your first kiss from him. His tongue touched yours tentatively, a flick and then a drawn in breath, a suckle on your own tongue. The kiss was short, brief in its own beauty but when your parted he took you into his arms, holding you close, wings shielding out any of the light from the bedroom.

“Can you cancel my press conferences for the day?”

“Only if I get to touch those wings again…”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at grumpygrahams.tumblr.com


End file.
